Walk in the Park
by Secret-Ninja1
Summary: Alfred is just a normal college student struggling to make the rent. Arthur just moved to America for his job as a writer. They end up meeting after a small accident and they get to know each other.
1. Chapter 1

Alfred enjoyed waking up early and starting his mornings with a simple cup of coffee and a relaxing breakfast. However, he now had to spend his mornings walking dogs as a side job to earn a little extra cash for his upcoming college classes.

Don't get him wrong, he liked animals, but that morning he simply did not feel up to the task. A job was a job, though.

He was off and walking in under half an hour, three dogs pulling ahead of him and guiding him through the all too familiar neighborhood.

Alfred has stayed on the sidewalk, pulling out his phone for a moment to check the time. During their arrival into the dog park, one of the leashes had managed to slip from his distracted grasp, the lead dog taking off across the playground.

"Dammit," Alfred ran after her, speeding past joggers and early risers that had taken seats on the park benches.

One man in particular was reading a book, the novel placed securely between his hands and over his lap. His eyes were trained on the words inside and his bag was placed leaning against the side of the bench.

The exact bag that Alfred's dog had her nose pressed in.

The man's concentrated stare was broken as he looked down at the large dog, then at the other who approached. He looked a bit out of breath by the time he stopped in front of him.

"No, down girl!" Alfred grabbed her leash and tugged, holding her back. "I'm really sorry, she's usually very well behaved. She just somehow got out, I'm sorry if she was any trouble."

"None at all," the Brit stood (Alfred noticed his accent immediately) and offered his hand, only to retract it when he realized that the blond's hands were busy. "I'm Arthur," he leaned down to pet the dog's head, earning a tail wag in return. "I'm not much of a dog person, but she is quite adorable."

Alfred smiled and held onto her leash tightly when he stopped petting, preventing her from jumping on him just in case. "They're actually my neighbors' dogs, I walk them every morning as a side job."

"Rent?"

"Everything." Alfred laughed and realized that he had yet to introduce himself. "My name's Alfred," he untangled the leashes and held out his hand, holding the dogs' leashes in his other one.

"Alfred," he repeated out loud, Arthur taking his had and shaking it. "Charming." He let his touch linger, pulling away slowly. "Do you need any help?" He motioned to the dogs who were squirming in their seats on the grass beside Alfred's feet.

"Oh, no, I've kept you from your reading long enough. It's about time they head back, anyways."

"It's no trouble," Arthur smiled and packed his book away carefully into his bag, wearing it around his shoulder. "I've read that novel three different times, there is no harm in waiting to read the rest when I get home."

That was at least enough to convince Alfred on his decision, besides the small whine that came from one of the dogs next to him.

"Alright, their owners don't live far from here." Alfred unwound the leashes and handed Arthur the calmest one, his tail wagging when he was handed over. "He's slow, but keep hold of him."

As they walked, Alfred had begun asking a few questions about his guest. "Are you from around here?"

Arthur sped up to keep pace with Alfred and his dogs, staying in stride with him. "Not originally. I came here for my work and I've moved into an apartment recently. My home is back in the UK-"

"I knew it!" Alfred broke into a grin and paid almost no attention to his out burst. "Your accent totally gave it away."

"You're obviously from here," Arthur challenged, "born and raised?" Alfred seemed like the type to never leave the nest until he was absolutely prepared to.

"Of course, this is my home town, after all. I plan on moving once my courses are finished, so I'm saving up as much as I can."

They stopped in front of an apartment complex, the couple was waiting outside and smiling as Alfred appeared. They took the dogs from them and handed Alfred his pay for the morning.

Once they went back inside, Arthur stood in front of Alfred on the sidewalk. "Living alone?" He received a nod in response before Alfred pointed his thumb behind him.

"I live in this complex alone, and they live next door to me. I get a little bored with no one to talk to, but I guess it beats living in my parents' basement." He shrugged, but smiled.

Arthur shifted his feet, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. "Would you like to get some coffee?" He asked suddenly, not quite knowing himself where the question came from. "It's my treat, you don't have to pay."

Alfred glanced at him and his smile widened as he accepted the offer. "That sounds great, I don't have any other things I need to do today." Alfred stopped, realizing that he sounded a bit rude. "I mean, I'd still take up on your offer even if I had things to do. Not that I do or anything, which is good, since I can go without worrying about missing anything important. Well, I'm not saying that your offer isn't important-"

"Alfred," he cut him off of his ramble, covering his laugh behind his hand. "I understand, you don't need to elaborate on it. A simple yes would have sufficed."

It had taken about fifteen minutes to walk to the nearest shop, Alfred holding the door open for Arthur as they entered. It was there that the American had learned that Arthur hated coffee, preferred tea, and liked it warm.

"So," Alfred started, stirring his coffee with a spoon. "You mentioned work earlier. What kind of job do you have?"

Arthur took a sip of his tea and glanced at his watch, smiling when he looked back at him. "I'm a writer, my editor lives here and he wanted me to move for the sake of convenience. He was the only one who would take my work, so I didn't have much of a choice."

"Have you published any of your work yet?" Alfred crossed his legs under the table, leaning forward and blowing on his drink.

"It's a work in progress, I haven't really thought of releasing it quite yet. That's why I'm having my editor look over it this afternoon."

The Brit slowly sipped his tea, not yet wanting to finish it as he and Alfred talked. Having an excuse to finish his drink would make them stay longer. "What are you in college for?"

The sudden question made Alfred look up at him. Setting his coffee down on the table. "I'm wanting to be a game designer so I'm taking animation and standard technology classes. I'm going back to school in a few weeks which is why I've been doing side jobs. Right now I'm just a beta tester."

"You sit at home and play games all day?" Arthur was skeptical, Alfred's job may have just been a hobby. Then again, so was his.

"I test," he corrected, holding up his finger, "and I get paid for it. A friend of mine hooked me up with the job and he's the one signing my paychecks, too."

"Really," Arthur said it more as a statement than as a question. "What made you get into game design?"

"What made you get into writing?" Alfred countered with a grin.

Arthur returned the smile. "I've always enjoyed literature and stories. I eventually considered it my career back in school and planned to make it a significant part of my adult life."

"Wow, I just liked playing video games as a kid. It sounds like you've figured everything out from the get go." Alfred paused for a moment, drinking his coffee. "What exactly do you write?"

Arthur looked over at him, fidgeting slightly under the table. "Well, I write mainly adult novels."

"Like murder mysteries and stuff?"

"Ah, no, not exactly ... " The Brit trailed off, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. "It's more fictional erotica than anything."

"So you write porn?" Alfred noticed him cringe slightly and it was then did he realized he had said that just a little louder than intended.

"To be blunt, yes, that is what I write." He wasn't sure if Alfred would judge him any more if he specified on the topic. A coffee shop wasn't the best setting for the subject to begin with.

"That's cool, I guess. I don't know a whole lot of people who do that kind of stuff." Alfred glanced down at his cup, letting the rest of his drink settle.

"Right," Arthur fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably, wondering if his job had changed anything between them. First impressions meant a lot.

Alfred, sensing the mood for once, laughed. "I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting that. It's not everyday that I meet someone with your occupation."

It wasn't until Arthur looked up at Alfred did he notice his smile. He was nervous but smiled back, feeling himself relax. "Literature is a funny thing, I suppose. I didn't mean to frighten you, I don't usually let people in on my personal work."

"Does this make me special?" Alfred's grin looked both charming and flirtatious, causing Arthur to blush and hide his own smile behind his cup of tea.

"If you interpret this as such," Arthur drank the remainder of his tea, setting the cup down. "I wouldn't mind either way."

Alfred sat back and gently rocked his chair on the back of its legs before setting it on the floor again. "What were you doing outside?" Alfred received a confused look. "When I met you, I mean."

"I was reading, I thought that was obvious." Arthur joked, "I just felt like going outside this morning. The weather back home was always heavy and it rained so much so it's a bit different over here. I took the opportunity with the good weather and I'm glad I did. I would have never guessed I'd be having tea with some handsome, American stranger."

"You offered, I'd be a fool to pass it up." Alfred left it at that, feeling that if he continued speaking, he may not be able to stop himself. He felt flattered over Arthur's compliment.

"Well, I also wasn't expecting a broke college student to pay for the both of us, and that would be rude of me to stick you with the bill."

"Hey now, I'm not that poor. I got paid today, remember?" Alfred waved the bills in the air that he pulled from his pocket.

"Ten dollars isn't going to amount to much unless you save it up." And it was a good thing Arthur had already paid, he imagined that Alfred would be the one to pay whether he had money or not.

"You're starting to sound like my parents," Alfred rolled his eyes, pushing his now empty coffee cup away from him. "I moved out so I wouldn't be lectured and now I don't think I can escape it."

"You're still in school, someone has to tell you these things," Arthur gave a sly smile, mirroring Alfred's action with his cup.

"C'mon, you can't be any older than twenty-five, you probably just got out of school yourself!"

"Twenty-four actually, and yes. I wouldn't have my degree in writing if I didn't finish my time in a university."

"See? You're old enough to be my college roommate and you're lecturing me over money. I'm responsible enough to handle myself!"

Arthur raised a brow, crossing his arms and leaning back on the chair. "Well, you did say you lived alone. You could actually use a flatmate to help pay for the rent."

"Where am I going to find one in this town? Most of my friends moved after graduation and most of the roommate spots have been filled in other complexes." He had already tried to find a roommate, but there really wasn't anyone available.

Arthur shifted his eyes from the table top to Alfred, clearing his throat. "I could move in." He saw Alfred shift in his seat, his attention more focused now that he had made the offer. "I haven't completely unpacked because my living arrangements are only temporary. My editor pulled some strings so I had somewhere to live when I made it over to the States. It was supposed to buy me enough time to actually find someplace to settle."

Alfred was quiet for a moment, drumming his fingers lightly on the table in thought. "It's small, but it's a two bedroom, one bath. Is that decent enough?"

Arthur smiled, he wasn't expecting Alfred to agree so quickly. "That's the usual size for the flats in England, I won't be complaining."

"How long are you staying in your temporary home? I at least want to know how long you're staying so I can clean up the place."

"Until the end of this month, then I can move in. I could help you clean up if you want, and we can set a few ground rules before I unpack."

"Ground rules?" Alfred grinned, "I don't care about those. As long as you don't go through my things, I'm fine."

They agreed to share information about themselves, spending the next half hour explaining their pros and cons.

Arthur had learned that Alfred enjoyed hanging posters on his walls and he was often up late at night beta testing his games.

In turn, Alfred learned that Arthur had barely any experience in the kitchen. He also had a bad habit of pacing around or sitting in silence for hours when he had writer's block.

After Arthur checked the time on his watch, they had left the cafe and he walked Alfred to his apartment complex.

"I guess I'll see you by the end of this month?" He wanted to show Arthur the apartment sooner so they could organize where to put his belongings. Though, he found himself not wanting to keep Arthur from his job or from other things.

Arthur nodded and smiled. "I need to meet with my editor in an hour, otherwise I wouldn't mind you giving me a tour now." He pulled out a pen from his bag, reaching to grab Alfred's arm. "I'm giving you my number so you can phone me if something ever comes up."

Alfred studied the numbers scribbled on his hand as he finished and grinned, tucking his hands in his hoodie pocket. "I'll text you first thing when I go in, that way you can answer back when you're done talking with your editor."

They said their good byes and Alfred watched Arthur leave before going inside his apartment.

He took off his shoes and made his way to his computer, turning it on and taking his phone out from his pocket to record Arthur's number. He sent him a quick greeting, adding his name at the end just in case, and set his phone down on his desk.

He waited for his laptop to load before logging into his Skype, clicking the first name in his contacts and slipping his head-set on. As the call connected, Alfred was greeted with a smile and a quiet hello. "Hey Kiku, I think I found someone interesting today ... "


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred dropped the heavy box onto the couch, letting out a sigh of relief as the last one was brought in. He stepped back for a moment, looking over the array of personal belongings that came from his new roommate. It wasn't a whole lot, but he made sure to clean up like he promised, and that responsibility came with removing a few of his things so Arthur could move in with enough room to spare. "I think that'll do it."

Arthur smiled from his spot by the refrigerator, unpacking some of his kitchen ware. "Sorry about the heavy load," he looked around and inside of the kitchen cabinets before he placed his things where Alfred kept his own. "I didn't think I brought so many of my things with me when I moved, but I suppose I was wrong about that."

Alfred only waved his hand to dismiss his apology, wiping it on the side of his pants when he noticed how dirty they had gotten when he cleaned earlier today. He made sure his apartment was spotless for him, he even vacuumed his own room for the sake of impressing him. Not to mention he had sprayed himself with a bit of his best cologne, he just hoped the scent hadn't already faded by now.

"Should I start unpacking the rest your things since you're busy or do you want to do that yourself?" He sat himself on the arm of the couch, the furniture piece shifted at an awkward angle so he could fit Arthur's things in the living room area.

"No, please, I'll do that. You've managed to do all of the heavy lifting anyway. You may as well take a break." Arthur set the empty box to the side as he placed the last pan on top of Alfred's before he closed the cabinet door. "But I do need to decide where to put some of my belongings."

The American smiled and moved from his spot to join Arthur in the kitchen, pulling out two water bottles from the fridge and handing one to him. "We can both take five. While we're at it, we can vote on where to put everything."

* * *

Alfred held one end of the large chair while Arthur held the other, the two men shuffling across the wood flooring before they set it across from Alfred's television. Arthur barely managed to avoid getting his fingers smashed under the weight when he let go, retracting his hand sharply as the chair was placed. "Tell me again why we didn't just hire people to do this for us?"

Alfred looked up at him as he moved his couch back into place, sliding it next to Arthur's own chair. "To save money, I was the one who moved everything here, anyway." A week prior to his move-in date, Arthur had given him the address to his loaned house for the sake of convenience. His location was a bit far from his, but he had used his truck to haul all of his things to his apartment this morning. No need for professional movers, no need to spend extra cash, no need for worry. Besides, he thought he did an excellent job doing it himself, with Arthur's help of course. Except, maybe, for one incident in particular that happened when he was loading everything up.

"Right, how could I forget?" Arthur said it with a slight sarcastic tone, but meant no harm in it, judging from his smile. He reached for his water that sat on the counter, taking a quick drink before capping it again. They were finished with the kitchen and living room, now all that was left was his bedroom. His personal items, his clothes, books, and grooming products, were packed away in other boxes. There was a closet inside of his new bedroom that he could use, next to a small window that overlooked the streets, and Alfred had made space in the bathroom for him to put up his other things.

However, he was lacking a spot for his books at the moment.

When Alfred had drove over to his place for the move this morning, he was going back and forth from Arthur's house to his apartment in order to fit everything carefully onto the back of his truck safely. During the last load, Alfred lifted his book case onto the back of his vehicle. Something had happened, Arthur wasn't quite paying attention, and Alfred managed to drop the entire thing onto the ground and the wood had splintered and broke. The clumsy fool apologized faster than the Brit had registered what had happened, and he was offered a new book case straight from Alfred's paycheck. He declined, but he insisted it wasn't a problem and that he would shop with him for a new one tomorrow.

Now that he thought about it, the whole thing didn't save them as much money as they thought it would, considering the waste of gas Alfred had to use for transportation and the broken case they had to replace.

Alfred knew what Arthur was referring to with his comment, but said nothing. He wanted to apologize to him again, but he didn't want to pester him over it. He didn't look too worried over the whole ordeal, so he found it best to steer away from the topic until tomorrow.

When he glanced up, he noticed Alfred's small pout and challenged it with his own smile of reassurance. "Why don't I just set the rest of my things in the bedroom? You look like you need a break."

"I just took one," Alfred moved the chair slightly to the left, a bit closer to the couch than before. When he deemed it good enough, he looked back at him and wiped his hands on the side of his pants once more. "You don't have much to put up, but you'll need help lifting your bed frame and mattress inside. I can at least give a hand with that, right?" The last thing he wanted was for Arthur to pull his back out and get himself hurt.

"Then we'll get that out of the way first, since it takes up the most room. I've already decided to put the bed against the wall opposite of the window. It'll be easier to maneuver around without hitting the bed frame on anything." He was lucky that the doorway was wide enough for it, it looked like Alfred had given him the bigger bedroom. "That won't be a problem, will it?"

"Of course not, it's your room now. You could even paint the walls black if you wanted to." He had to admit he was excited in getting a roommate to share his living space with, especially with someone like Arthur. Being British was just the icing on the cake, and he was really looking forward to hearing his voice when he woke up every morning. The thought of having someone foreign to talk to made the situation exotic and different for him. He guessed it was because he had never even left the town he was born in, much less spoke to anyone from a different country and culture besides Kiku. Then again, he did sort of grow up with the short Japanese man.

After they located Arthur's bed frame (Alfred had no idea why he had placed it near the entrance of their apartment), hauling it across the space was easier said than done. Arthur fumbled with the furniture piece twice and Alfred almost dropped it altogether when he tripped over a small box that had been carelessly tossed in the middle of the living room. However, once they made it inside of the room, they set it down carefully and pushed the frame against the wall as they planned.

Putting the bed together was much easier, Alfred even tossed a few of his own pillows on his bed to replace Arthur's lack of ones. The color at least matched the sheets, and that was all Arthur cared about.

They spent another hour setting everything up in his room and organizing his things to Arthur's liking. As he began hanging up his clothes, Alfred busied himself with clearing the boxes that were leftover from their unpacking and tossed them out to the curb for the garbage truck to take care of. Arthur's move-in was almost official, and it needed just one more thing.

"Arthur," he called his name as he rounded the corner to his room.

Arthur's head poked out from the closet as Alfred walked over to him, stepping over the pile of books on the floor. He put away his last shirt and closed the closet door, turning to face him. "What? Did you clean up everything?"

"Yeah, everything outside in the garbage. I just wanted to know if you were interested in getting something to eat? Like, going out somewhere for dinner to celebrate today." Alfred shoved his hands in his pockets, grinning. Besides, Arthur treated him to coffee when they first met, the least he could do was give him the same treatment. "I know a good Chinese place, well, we can go anywhere, it's your choice."

Arthur smiled, walking past him to pick up a bundle of books on the floor. As he placed them on the end of his bed, he looked back at him, turning around to lean on the bed frame. "Well, that depends. I'm in the mood for Chinese, if that's alright with you. I saw a buffet somewhere in town that I heard was good and I've been meaning to try it myself." He should have expected Alfred to take him out for dinner, not for the sake of skipping the work to cook, just as another way to welcome him in. He never understood why Alfred couldn't find any flatmates for himself, he was charming and gentlemanly, quality traits that he noticed were lacking in most people that he had met. Himself included, at times.

"That really is the only Chinese place we can go to, one that isn't out of town, at least. I've been there plenty of times, it's cheap and the food's great!" Alfred often ordered take-out from the menu that he kept at home. Besides, he knew the owner of the place and he gave it good business whenever he had to grab a quick bite to eat after his classes. The place was sanitary, quiet, and he had a feeling Arthur would like it. "We can get ready and head out whenever you want, I'm in no rush."

Arthur glanced down at Alfred's bottom quickly when he bent down to pick up the rest of the books off of the floor, his gaze meeting Alfred's when the American set the stack down with the others on the bed. He seemed oblivious to Arthur's wandering eyes, much to his relief. "It's a bit early to head out for dinner, I'd much rather wait awhile before that."

"Yeah, I feel tired from everything we did today, I need to take a break before we leave." He would be driving anyway and although it wasn't far, his arms were a bit sore from the heavy lifting. "Actually, I have a few movies in the living room if you want to watch any before we go out." He had recently bought a movie that came out on DVD just a week before, he was planning on saving it for when Arthur arrived. "I'm not sure what movies you're interested in, but I have a decent collection."

At that, Arthur crossed his arms, staring at him in thought. If he learned anything about Americans in such a short amount of time, it was that they were loud, obnoxious, and extreme. Alfred was loud at times, but he didn't get on his nerves like most people did. He was still American, which meant his genre of films weren't too diverse. "I'm assuming your vast collection consists of action films centered around unnecessary explosions and violence, and the majority of other is combined with horror and comedy?"

He held his hands up in mock surrender, dropping them at his sides with a cheeky smile. "You figured that out quicker than I wanted you to. You still have a choice, and if you don't like them, you can still pick anything you want from my Netflix account."

He raised a brow and returned the smile, stepping forward and walking past Alfred before he followed. "That seems like the more acceptable choice, I think we can agree on something to watch together." Alfred joined him on the couch, the blond pulling a Wii remote from the coffee table drawer to turn on the device and access Netflix. If Alfred enjoyed action movies, he was sure he had a few in mind neither would complain about. As he was handed the remote, he searched through the recommended titles before settling on something promising.

* * *

"You can get more than one plate, you know." Alfred looked over at Arthur's food, finding an assortment of Asian cuisine that ranged from sushi to seasoned chicken. It covered the majority of his plate, but it was nothing compared to Alfred's. He had to pile his food on top of one another and he managed to carry three plates back to their table without dropping any of them. He wasn't in a rush like he usually was, he could eat as much as he wanted and not worry about getting to his classes on time. "It's a buffet, not an actual restaurant."

"I know that," Arthur sat across from him, moving his drink to the side before he picked up his fork, "I'm just not as hungry as you. Did you skip out on breakfast this morning?" He had never seen someone have that much to eat at once, usually two plates were enough for him.

"Hm, no, I had plenty to eat before I got to your place," Alfred already began eating, choosing to use his chopsticks instead of his other given utensils, "I assumed that we weren't eating anything else after this so I got as much as I could. If I don't eat the rest, I'll just take the left-overs home to eat later." Alfred picked up a small piece of chicken between his chopsticks, dropping the food once before he tried again. So much for impressing Arthur.

Arthur sighed, reaching over the table to position Alfred's hands correctly to make eating easier. "Like a pencil," he instructed, moving his fingers down a bit more and squeezing the two sticks together. Alfred successfully popped the chicken into his mouth, grinning at him as he swallowed.

"I totally knew that, it was just really slippery chicken." Alfred brought another piece into his mouth and added a clump of rice. "How'd you know how to do that, anyway?" He was always disappointed that chopsticks never came with directions, so if he ever used them he always ended up stabbing his food instead of using them properly.

Arthur took a moment to eat a portion of his noodles, chewing them slowly in thought. He set his fork down on the side of his plate and cleared his throat. "I actually lived in Hong Kong for a few years as a child before I moved back to London, so I learned there. My father traveled because of his work and brought me along with him so I could experience what it was like." He smiled and looked down at his food before he took a quick drink of his water. "I never got used to jet leg, though, and eventually I stopped going, but I brought along a few useful assets with me because of it."

Alfred leaned forward on the table and looked at Arthur with heavy curiosity. "Does that mean you speak Chinese? Oh my god, say something cool in it, please!" Alfred noticed a familiar waiter pass by them and recalled his name (Li something...), but he simply passed on with a roll of his eyes and mumbled something under his breath.

"Alfred, keep your voice down a bit," he scolded lightly, flashing an apologetic smile at the man before looking back at Alfred. "I don't know any kind of Chinese, I never learned it. Besides, where I was at, most of the people there spoke English. Quite fluently, I might add. It is one of their official languages, after all." He couldn't deny the deflated expression that replaced Alfred's elated smile as he turned back to his plate.

"Oh, okay," Alfred's glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose slightly, the action matching his emotion, and his cheeks gained a light pink color before he pushed them back to their original spot again. "Sorry about that, I just get really excited about different countries and stuff like that." He blinked once before his features changed again and his smile was back. This time, he looked shy. "I grew up around old Kung-Fu movies and I guess that was where it came from." He glanced up at him and their eyes met for a brief moment. "Also a lot of James Bond. I always thought British people were pretty cool."

"There's something we can relate to." Arthur laughed and Alfred mimicked his reaction. He felt better now that Alfred didn't seem awkward anymore, and there was nothing wrong about his previous question. Was he expecting it? Not really. But he wished he did learn Chinese, to make Alfred happier was better than shooting him down.

Their dinner went by quietly after that, small talk being passed around occasionally, but Arthur remained quiet for the most part. If anything, it was to let Alfred finish his food so they could leave, he had finished his own plate long before Alfred started on his third one.

When their bill came, Alfred paid it, including the tip, and they took their fortune cookies with them as they drove back to the apartment. Alfred decided to amuse Arthur by opening his cookie and reading the message inside with a poorly imitated Chinese accent. "Your offer will soon be accepted," Alfred read aloud, his voice that of an old man's and he stressed on the syllables to sound somewhat Chinese. It failed, but it was enough to make Arthur laugh in his seat before he opened his own cookie. "What does your fortune foresee, young grasshopper?" Alfred leaned over to read his fortune before Arthur shoved him away lightly with a soft chuckle, telling him to focus on the road.

"An unexpected message will arrive from a friend," Arthur hummed, pocketing the slip of paper, "hope it's something good."

Alfred pulled into the parking lot slowly and parked, turning off the truck and hopping out. "Maybe from your editor?" He received a shrug from Arthur. He ate the split cookie as he unlocked their apartment door, letting Arthur inside before he followed. "Fortune cookies are fake, anyway. I once got one saying that I'd gain a load of money from a bunch of hard work and I'm still waiting for that to come true."

"You can't hope for everything, Alfred," Arthur went to the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth before he came back out, finding Alfred in the kitchen and standing in front of the fridge. "Please don't tell me you're hungry again."

"Nah, I'm just grabbing something to drink." Alfred pulled out a can of soda from the top and opened it, letting the fizz settle before drinking it. He tossed one at Arthur, the Brit grabbing it in haste so it wouldn't fall on the floor. "Did you like dinner?"

"Other than listening to you trying to impersonate Confucius and mocking the entirety of Asia, it was wonderful." Arthur smiled and it became hidden behind the can he brought to his lips before setting it on the counter. "Thank you for taking me out, you didn't have to."

"I did to, how else was I supposed to treat you to something? I wanted to celebrate a little, there's nothing wrong with that." Alfred smiled back and leaned against the fridge, drinking more.

Arthur looked at him before he returned to his soda, his thoughts going back to their dinner earlier. He was definitely looking forward to living with Alfred for awhile, if the evening's events were anything to go by. His sense of humor was astounding and he could tolerate him easily, and it seemed that they got along just fine. He was lucky that he meet a good looking man like him, he was sure that he would have never offered to be his flatmate if he wasn't so smitten with the American.

He was very lucky, indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred's eyes peeked open at the small ray of sunlight that crept through the window in his room, the student turning his head slightly before he sat up, untangling his legs from the mess of sheets on his bed. He yawned loudly, wiping the sleep and crust from his eyes before he reached for his glasses on his bedside table, slipping them on as he stretched and shuffled out of his room.

His slow brain reminded him that he had left the air conditioning on over night but he didn't bother scolding himself, only feeling a bit irritated that it was colder than usual in the apartment. He fixed it, however, when he passed the thermostat on the way to the kitchen, turning it back to room temperature.

He blinked slowly as he prepared his coffee, dumping the coffee grinds into the paper filter and pouring water into the machine before turning it on. Moving over to the stove, he looked at the clock to check the time, humming to himself before he opened a cabinet and pulled out a frying pan. He had an hour to make breakfast and get ready for his daily chore, the blond yawning a second time as he opened the fridge to get out a few eggs and a pack of bacon.

After he began cooking everything, he flipped the bacon over and switched to the other side of the counter, taking out two mugs and filling them with coffee. Glancing over at the food, he deemed it safe to leave unattended for a few minutes as he made his way to Arthur's bedroom.

Holding Arthur's cup steady, he knocked gently on the door, waiting for an answer. "Arthur?" He called, though it was whispered and he doubted he was heard, anyway. Turning the handle, he walked in and found Arthur still asleep, his face buried between two small pillows and he was lying on his side under the covers.

Alfred stared at him for a little while longer, smiling before he walked to his bedside and reached over to wake him. "Arthur, it's morning. I made you coffee." He shook him awake, gripping his shoulder in an effort to get the Brit's attention.

All he received was a mumble and a small, "Fuck off ... "

He sighed but still held his bright, yet sleepy smile when he set the mug down on his night table. He thought that Arthur was an early riser like him, but he knew that even people like himself needed sleep-in days. Not to mention he was probably tired from everything that they managed to do yesterday, he never imagined that they would get finished within that afternoon.

The food from the kitchen was starting to drift into the room and Alfred tried once more. "I'm making breakfast and it's going to burn if you don't get up." He pulled on the back of Arthur's sleep shirt, earning a slap and a tired look tossed in his direction.

"Five more minutes," he sighed and pulled the sheets up, "please." He had not meant to be so mean to him so early in the morning, he had forgotten it was Alfred who was waking him up. "I'll be out soon, I promise."

Alfred took his word for it and left his coffee on his night table for him to drink when he got up, closing his bedroom door behind him as he went back to cooking the bacon. The toast was ready and Alfred flipped the bacon one last time just as Arthur had come out from his room, coffee mug in his hand. "Morning."

"Good morning," Arthur returned the greeting with a small smile, as if his attitude from earlier had never even existed. He came into the kitchen and set the mug down, sighing. "I appreciate the coffee, thank you. But... " Arthur let himself trail off, waiting as Alfred turned around to see him.

Alfred was busy loading the food onto plates when he stopped. "Oh, that's right. You don't like coffee, do you?" The American pouted and reached up to the cabinet above him, pulling out a small wooden box full of tea bags. "Do you want me to make some tea for you instead?" He wasn't sure how to make warm tea other than dumping the bag into a mug of hot water.

"I'm fine, I'll just make my own later. I do appreciate the thought, really." He didn't know what to do with the coffee in his hands, deciding to just leave it on the counter for now. His first morning living with Alfred and his day was already turning awkward. He deemed it normal, considering that they were still getting to know each other. They would have trouble adjusting to new habits and schedules for the first few weeks, but he didn't find it a hassle. Rather, he enjoyed the change.

And speaking of schedules, "Don't you have dogs to walk this morning?"

He received a hum in response, then a paper plate in his hands full of bacon, eggs, and toast. "In about half an hour. I got up a bit earlier to start on breakfast so we could both eat. After this I'll head out, if you're that worried about it." He smiled and ushered him out and towards the kitchen bar to sit down and eat. He joined him with his own food, pulling up a chair and starting on the toast.

Arthur now knew that Alfred wasn't joking earlier when he said breakfast might burn, he could see the slightly charred edges of the crisp bacon that was evidence of a neglected watch. It tasted fine, wonderful actually, he didn't mind the small mishap at all. "I wasn't trying to rush you, I was only asking."

Alfred bothered to wipe the crumbs from the corner of his lips as he swallowed the rest of the buttered toast. "I know, you were just worried about me being late. I'll make it in time if I hurry and put some clothes on."

"And leave me to clean up this mess?" Arthur challenged with a raise of his brow, idly chewing on the remainder of his bacon. "I'm not sure if scrubbing egg out of a frying pan is worth your flimsy ten dollars."

"You're enjoying breakfast, so you're a part of the clean-up crew. How's this: if I'm in charge of cooking, you're in charge of cleaning it up. I think that's fair, right?" Alfred waited when Arthur's hand wasn't near his plate when he snatched a piece of toast from it. He ignored Arthur's sputtering when he managed to fit the entire piece into his mouth, his cheeks bulging from the extra amount.

Arthur refused to fight back with him, especially since he made a point. He figured Alfred needed the toast more than he did if he was just going to burn off his breakfast by walking. That, and his fast metabolism was nothing to laugh at. He finished his plate quietly, Alfred beating him by a few seconds as he scurried off to his room to change into something decent. Batman flannel night clothes weren't going to cut it.

He took both of their plates and put them into the sink, scrubbing off what food was left before he stacked them into the dishwasher. He did the same with the rest of the dishes, piling them inside of the machine before Alfred came back dressed in something more appropriate.

He headed out the door as he cleaned up, the America shutting the door behind him as he went out to do his job. Arthur only hoped that he wouldn't let go of any leashes like he did the first time they met. Even worse, meet another attractive man or woman during his walk, he wasn't sure he could tolerate a third roommate if that were the case.

Arthur sighed to himself, drying his hands on a sheet of paper towel before he went back into his new room to get ready for the day. He reminded himself that Alfred was going to take him to the store for a new bookcase, which meant he had to at least pick something out that would be acceptable in public.

The Brit ran his fingers through his hair, frowning as he felt a few knots. He decided to take a quick shower while Alfred was gone, he was sure he wouldn't mind. He promised to be quick about it, not wanting to take up the hot water before he got back from his walk. He grabbed an outfit from his closet, taking it with him as he walked into the bathroom. Setting his clothes on the toilet seat, he began to strip himself of his sleep wear, tossing them onto the floor as he stepped into the shower.

He didn't lie to Alfred when he said that a one bathroom apartment was fine with him, but he only had a problem with its location. It was between his room and the kitchen, but the bathroom was literally out in the open for anyone to see as soon as they entered the apartment. That's why he brought his clothes with him, not risking the chance of Alfred coming home and seeing Arthur leave the bathroom in only a towel.

The warm spray was enough to keep him awake as he worked on cleaning his hair first. He lathered it in shampoo, scrubbing it until the soap suds started to drip down his forehead and ears before he washed it out. It felt nice to finally get a shower after all of their hard work yesterday, the water felt like a heavenly massage on his shoulders.

He rolled his head back, letting the water hit his face to clean the access shampoo that trailed down his cheeks and neck. After that, he scrubbed himself down with his hands, lathering the, surprisingly, sweet smelling soap over his legs. His fingers brushed over his groin, Arthur pausing his task as he considered his options. He pulled the shower curtain to peek at the closed door of the bathroom, deciding to make it quick.

He hoped Alfred would be gone for another few minutes at least, if the American ever even walked far with the dogs in the first place. The last thing he wanted was an awkward situation with Alfred finding out that he pleasured himself in the shower. He wasn't sure if he could ever muster up the courage to look him in the eye afterwards.

Ignoring the thought, he set the bar of soap down and took a hold of his cock with one hand, steadying himself against the wall with his other. He started to stroke, slowly at first, getting it hard and ready for what was to come. He sighed deeply, letting his eyes slip shut as he opened his mouth and whispered Alfred's name experimentally, receiving a nice response from his body.

He knew Alfred was attractive, that was obvious, but he wasn't sure just what he felt for his new roommate. He gave himself a few tugs, letting his mind wonder about the blond; what he would look like naked and how he would sound during sex. He was pleased with the sudden spark that shot through his arousal, Arthur moving his hand faster as he let his mind lay out a few scenarios with him leaning over Alfred with his cock buried inside of him.

He played with that idea for awhile, feeling his cock twitch in his hands as he pumped himself with the rhythm of his imaginary thrusts. He moaned, his hand slowing down for a moment as he spread his legs just a bit more, his head thinking up another fantasy. This time he was on his back, gripping Alfred's shoulders with the American moving in and out of him, faster and faster, Arthur hearing his own grunts over the sound of the water spraying his skin and the tile wall.

The heat of the shower was only fueling his sensitivity, his head feeling light as his hand worked furiously around his cock, his fingers tightening around the tip when he felt his stomach coil from his release. The Brit called out when he came in his hand, the substance dripping through his fingers and onto the floor of the shower only to be washed away by the warm stream of water.

His legs and back relaxed after his orgasm, his mouth open as he panted, a smile gracing his lips once he caught his breath. He cleaned his hand off, finishing up his shower before he got out, drying off with a nearby towel before he got dressed.

His hair was still wet as he put on his shirt, scrubbing his locks dry with the white towel as he stepped out of the bathroom. He honestly didn't feel guilty about indulging himself in their shower as he walked into his bedroom, he felt more at ease with himself. It had been awhile since he had sex, the least he could do was treat himself with a few thought up images of Alfred. What the American didn't know couldn't hurt him.

Just as he tossed the wet towel into the hamper, he heard the door of the apartment open and close, followed by footsteps that came in through the living room. "I'm back!" Alfred sounded a bit winded from where he was, Arthur walking out of his room to catch Alfred moving into the kitchen for water.

He stopped, watching Alfred's torso twist from the stretch of his arm reaching to the top shelf of the fridge, his shirt damp from sweat and sticking to the visible muscle under it. He swallowed quietly, realizing that his fantasy about Alfred from earlier was not far from the truth. His hair was matted down from the humidity outside and it clung to his forehead. "It... looks like you ran quite a bit," was all Arthur had to say.

Alfred was already taking sips of his water, closing the refrigerator door. "Yeah, the neighbors are going to be gone for the weekend and they wanted me to tucker out the dogs so they wouldn't be too wound up while they go on vacation. I told them I could just walk them while they were gone but they said no." Alfred dipped his hand into his back pocket, flashing Arthur another wad of bills as he drank. "I got paid extra though, so I think it was worth the sprint."

Arthur thought it was worth every penny.

To make it worse, Alfred even bothered to wipe the sweat from his face with his shirt, lifting the thin fabric up to reveal the not-so-subtle abs that were displayed so openly in front of Arthur. He chided himself for staring, doing it a little too long for his taste, and he promptly turned the other direction as he excused himself to his room.

He heard Alfred announce that he was leaving to take a shower, his footsteps fading as Arthur distracted himself with his laptop that was perched on top of the small desk just across from his bed. He may as well get some work done while Alfred was busy, they didn't have to leave to look for a new bookcase until noon.

Arthur sat himself at his desk, opening his laptop and staring at the blank page on the screen. His editor had looked over his current work in-progress and decided that Arthur take out a good portion of the story. He claimed that it was "too plain" and "needed a plot twist here and there". Sometimes he hated Francis for criticizing his work but he convinced himself that it was for the best. He was only doing his job, after all.

He had been working on the latest chapter for a few weeks now and while Arthur had some decent ideas, decent just wasn't enough. He wasn't sure how to piece it all together in one big novel. He found that working on it on different days only managed to shift the mood of his work and it didn't quite fit once he was finished typing.

So he stayed seated at his desk for the remainder of the morning, typing lazily with one hand, his head held in his other hand. He had motivation to finish his work, but he felt that everything that came to mind just didn't do his soon-to-be book justice. Maybe going out with Alfred and walking around the store would do him good, maybe get inspiration by looking at furniture.

As if on cue, he heard a knock on his door, Alfred walking in without permission for the second time that day. He paused, looking at Arthur who was still and quiet. His eyes went towards his computer screen, wondering for a moment if Arthur was in the middle of anything important. "Hey, I was thinking of heading out in a few minutes, if that's alright with you. Am I interrupting anything?"

He spared the American a tired glance and shook his head, closing his laptop as he watched the screen go dark and disappear. "Nothing at all, actually. I've hardly written anything. Writer's block is a bloody awful thing." He rubbed his head and stood from his chair, moving to find his shoes. As he slipped them on, he followed Alfred through their apartment and towards the entrance.

Alfred locked up, making sure the door was secure before they went down to the parking lot, Arthur climbing into Alfred's truck and buckling up. He never understood the point of trucks, why they took up more space than was needed or why people bought them when all they were good for was using up gas. He never voiced his complaint, not when Alfred was smiling and looking joyful as he drove them to the store.

It wasn't long before Alfred parked in front of a large plaza that was home to a fast food restaurant, a small clothing store, a dance studio, and the furniture store that had a single window near the entrance that displayed couches of several different colors and sizes. They didn't look cheap, he wondered how Alfred was going to pay for a bookshelf if the prices on the sofas were anything to go by.

The service was fine, they were spotted by an employee not long after they came into the store. In the end, Arthur picked the cheapest one, a simple, wooden-made bookcase that was enough to hold all of his novels and then some. It wasn't too big and he knew that it would fit into his room just fine without it taking up extra space.

However, Alfred didn't agree. They were already putting it in the back of his truck when Alfred spoke up. "You could have gotten a better one, something more modern and cool looking! I told you price didn't matter." The American closed the gate of the truck and walked to the driver's seat. He only started talking again once Arthur joined him. "I would've gotten the one in the back of the store..."

"And I said that I didn't mind having something simple and cheap." Arthur kept his gaze out to the window as he watched the buildings outside disappear as they drove through the traffic. "I know you feel bad for breaking my old one, but really, they were all too expensive. You've already treated me to dinner and gave me a place to stay, I don't want you emptying your wallet because I can't find someplace to put my books."

"Okay, yeah, you have a point, but-"

"But what?" Arthur turned and grinned at him, leaning back in the seat. "As much as I like you paying for my things," he hoped Alfred would catch his sarcasm, "I believe that this will be the last incident for the remainder of our time together. You said so yourself that you're saving up, why waste it all on me?"

Alfred glanced at him from the side, looking back on the road as he turned into the parking lot in front of their apartment complex. "'Cause I wanna make a good impression. Living together isn't going to work out if there isn't some kind of truce between us. Hence, paying for your dinner last night in exchange for the coffee you gave me on day one, and repaying you for dropping your old bookcase. All seems fair and equal, so I'm not complaining. Are you?" He teased, hitting the side of his arm as he retreated from the truck before Arthur could hit him back.

Arthur helped him bring the bookcase up to their apartment, Arthur walking backwards upstairs before Alfred tossed him the keys to unlock the door. With a steady grip, Arthur held the end of the polished wood in one hand while he swung the door open with his foot.

"Watch your step."

"I know."

"No really, lift your foot when you-"

"I know!"

The Brit held the end of the bookcase in both hands while he walked backwards in the darkened room, making sure to step over the gap between the doorway and the entrance. He remembered when he first arrived, before they began to move the furniture in, that Alfred didn't warn him of the gap and he ended up tripping face-first onto the wooden floor. Arthur only found it funny once he lifted his head up to see Alfred holding back his laughter by the counter, an absurd snort coming from his mouth before he lost it.

Arthur smiled at the memory, flipping on the light switch when they made it to the living room. They set the bookcase down carefully next to his desk, Alfred making sure it was even with the wall before they gathered his books up to sort them by genre.

As Alfred passed him his books, he looked over the covers of each one, reading the title before giving Arthur the next one he needed to put on the shelf. "You really do have murder mysteries in your collection." Alfred gave him the one in his hand, looking at the next one. "Jack the Ripper? Ain't that the guy who killed prostitutes or something?" The book was snatched from him before he could open it.

"Yes, it's his biography, though, they never arrested him." Arthur felt a little embarrassed with Alfred going through his books. Even though he only brought his favorite novels to the States, he couldn't help but to feel like Alfred was judging him.

Alfred only shrugged, giving him his next book as he studied the others. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

Arthur paused, refusing to turn away from his job to look at him. "Not exactly. Why?" He asked cautiously, leaning the side of a book against another to help steady them on the shelf. He didn't receive an answer, not verbally at least, when he grabbed another book from him. He looked at the cover and rolled his eyes, sliding the book in-between two others of similar context. "Ignore that, please. That book is just a memento from my years in the Magic club. It's just full of spells and chants that we made up around an Ouija board in primary school." He didn't mention the fact that those were only side notes written on the empty pages with childish handwriting that were hidden behind actual instructions of how to draw summoning circles, steps for rituals, and hexes that fascinated Arthur more than it should have when he was younger.

Black Magic wasn't something he wanted to try once he realized that people would find him as some kind of evil Satanist if they found out. It never worked for him anyway, not when he tried to voodoo a classmate of his once for making fun of his eyebrows. It ended badly, Arthur being sent home to his parents after they were told he tried to assault a student in Art class with sewing needles.

Alfred couldn't help a small shiver that passed down his spine at the mention of Ouija boards. Ghosts were real and no one could convince him otherwise. He hated anything that had to do with the supernatural, ghosts were dead for a reason. He couldn't handle watching horror movies of any kind, not without pissing himself, and he never participated in sleep-overs that involved screwing around with nature and trying to talk to some deceased relative by forming a seance circle.

"Are you alright?"

Alfred hadn't realized that Arthur had turned around to see him, wondering why he was quiet for so long. "Y-yeah, never better." Alfred gave him his next book in haste, smiling awkwardly as a means to reassure Arthur. He laughed quietly, shifting his eyes down when Arthur turned back to the shelf. "I, ah, don't suppose you're into scary movie marathons, right?" God, he really hoped not.


End file.
